


Merry Christmas, Claudia Brown

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Primeval
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3285500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An evening shortly before Christmas at the ARC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Claudia Brown

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fandom stocking stuffer at one point, but I have completely lost track of who it was for.

            The rec room was a bit squashed, but it was better than staying in cold and dreary offices. Claudia chewed her lip, and considered adding another line to the letter to her sister, who lived in Australia and probably wouldn’t get it until New Year’s Day at this rate – but Claudia insisted on sending proper letters for Christmas at least. Hand-written. With _stamps_.

 

            “Jon, do you mind?” Lester said irritably, and Claudia didn’t even bother looking up and informing her boss that no, Lyle didn’t mind, and that was why he was sitting on the counter frustrating Lester’s attempts to make a cup of tea in the first place. Claudia was half-convinced that he just liked the little maddened frown on Lester’s face when his will was thwarted. She wondered if...

 

            No, oh God, no. Claudia squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block out several ghastly mental pictures; the less she thought about her boss’s sex life, the happier she was, especially considering that she herself had none to speak of, and it was just _sad_ that James Lester was getting more than she was on a regular basis.

 

            Sounds from the kitchen counter, and a loud, distinctively Scottish yelp of disapproval, assured her that opening her eyes would not be a career-enhancing move.

 

            “Oh, my God,” said a quieter and less Scottish voice from quite close to Claudia’s seat on a sofa near the door.

 

            “Run while you still can, Stephen,” Claudia sighed.

 

            “Can’t, the heating’s off,” Stephen said, taking a seat next to her as Nick’s solo rant on public indecency turned into a duet with Lester on the subject of who was guilty of greater public indecency (Nick was losing, on the grounds that he’d been caught on his knees in front of Stephen in the car park only two nights previously, although Nick was making a spirited argument about not having known there were CCTV cameras and no-one’s clothing having been removed before they were caught).

 

            “What, your office as well?” Claudia said, tentatively opening her eyes. Everyone appeared to be a safe distance away from each other and decently dressed, which – quite frankly – made  change, for this place.

 

            Stephen nodded. “Do you think it’s safe to get a coffee?”

 

            “No. I think Lyle will grope you just to see what James and Nick do.”

 

            A speculative expression passed across Stephen’s face.

 

            “Hold your orgy somewhere else,” Claudia said crossly, adding a comma to a sentence towards the beginning of the letter. Addy would only mock if she messed up her grammar. _All that time spent writing, Claud, and you didn’t even bother to proofread_. The pen scratched at the paper, and almost ripped through it. “Damn.”

 

            Stephen glanced at her and shook his head.

 

            “What?” Claudia said, fully prepared to rip out his throat with her fountain pen.

 

            “Captain Ryan needs to get his act together, that’s all,” Stephen said.

 

            “He needs to _what_?” Claudia said, at the same time as Captain Ryan entered and enquired “I need to do what, Hart?”

 

            Stephen just grinned, blue eyes crinkling mischievously.

 

            “Getting out of the doorway would be a start,” Lorraine said patiently, and Claudia let out a sigh of relief as her sanest colleague shouldered past Ryan and Blade, arms full of presents, wrapping paper, scissors and tape.

 

            “You missed a show, Miss Wickes,” Stephen said.

 

            “Did I?” Lorraine said imperturbably, and followed his glance over to Lester and Lyle. Lester flushed angrily; Lyle merely grinned. “Does this mean you’re making a cup of tea, sir? If so, I take mine with milk but no sugar.”

 

            “Your wish is my command,” Lester said dryly, losing the blush and putting the kettle on. Lyle, possibly inspired by the fear of having to sleep on the sofa through the festive season and possibly inspired by the havoc Lorraine would wreak if he endangered her tea, didn’t interfere.

 

            “Makes a change,” Cutter commented, irrepressibly.

 

            “Shut up, Nick,” Claudia said, carefully adding a word to a slightly ambiguous sentence in her letter as she continued to proofread. She seemed to have mentioned Captain Ryan a few too many times, but there was nothing to be done about that.

 

            Lorraine took over the table, dispossessing Finn and Ross’s card game and neatly scything through folds of wrapping paper as she worked through the small pile. Claudia was amused to see that it included a child’s t-shirt from the British Museum, featuring an Ancient Egyptian mummy and tagged cheekily ‘are you my mummy?’, which went in with a book on Tutankhamen.

 

            “Is mine there?” Blade demanded, taking a break from mocking Ross’s hand of cards.

 

            “What do you think?” Lorraine retorted, and promptly got her scissors and fingers snarled in tape. Blade offered her a knife, and Lorraine gave it a suspicious look.

 

            “Has that been in someone, Niall?”

 

            “Not _recently_ ,” Captain Ryan murmured in Claudia’s ear, echoed by Blade’s deadpan words out loud, although Captain Ryan spared her the wicked grin Blade gave Lorraine.

 

            “Incorrigible,” Lorraine said, shaking her head and hiding her answering smile. She took the knife and cut the tape with her free hand, and Lyle, Finn, Ross and Stephen proceeded to take the piss out of Blade for turning domestic.

 

            Claudia turned to Captain Ryan, who was leaning against the doorjamb beside her, smiling. “How did you know he was going to say that?”

 

            “In-joke,” Ryan replied. “I’ll tell you the story, some time. By the way, has Cutter’s fly been open the whole time he’s been in here?”

 

            Claudia couldn’t help a glance at her colleague’s hips, and saw to her horror that the fly on his jeans was, indeed, undone. She stared at him, and then at Stephen, who winked lasciviously at her. “Oh God – I hate you, Ryan!”

 

            He laughed, and his fingers brushed the nape of her neck as if by accident, sending sparks shivering down her spine. “Merry Christmas, Claudia Brown.”


End file.
